


come

by Milque



Category: A3! (Video Game)
Genre: (they're not dating here), (yet.............), Anxiety, Anxiety Disorder, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Panic Attacks, no beta we dont do this around these parts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-14
Updated: 2020-11-14
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:34:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27560842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Milque/pseuds/Milque
Summary: Azami didn’t really think much of it when he received a message from Kumon. Maybe the length of it was something to be concerned about, a simple ‘come’ giving him an unsettling heavy feeling in his stomach.Kumon's anxiety overwhelms him and he needs Azami's support more than anything.
Relationships: Hyoudou Kumon & Izumida Azami, Hyoudou Kumon/Izumida Azami
Comments: 2
Kudos: 72





	come

**Author's Note:**

> Just a simple vent fic, so: tw for panic attacks  
> Take care of yourself out there <3

Azami didn’t really think much of it when he received a message from Kumon. Maybe the length of it was something to be concerned about, a simple _‘come’_ giving him an unsettling heavy feeling in his stomach. It wasn’t unusual for Kumon to be sparse with his texts, but what usually followed a message like this were 10 more, all within 3 seconds of one another. This one was sent 3 minutes before and the small green ball next to his LIME icon had already turned gray, so Azami thought his small worry was justified. He messaged him back ( _'to your room??'_ ) but after not getting a reply after a minute, well, not even being read, he decided to check room 203 anyway. He knocked on the door and tried the doorknob when he received no answer. The door was unlocked, so he opened it and peaked his head inside.

“Kumon?” he called out, but still, no answer. “... Misumi?”

It wasn’t until he was about to close the door and pull out his phone that he heard some shuffling. And then labored breathing. His eyes quickly skimmed the room, the uncomfortable heaviness in his stomach returning tenfold. He went inside, and closed the door, only then noticing a shaking figure sitting on the floor behind the couch and a lump in his throat almost made him gag. He swallowed before speaking, making sure his voice didn’t waver even a bit.

“Kumon, you okay?” He quietly scolded himself. Of course, he _wasn’t_. He approached the boy on the ground, who was hugging his knees and hiding his face. He stopped half a meter away from him and kneeled down. “Can you hear me?”

There was no reaction from the other; he kept on breathing heavily, his nails of one hand were digging into his arm to the point his knuckles were white, the other hand was clutching on his phone so hard Azami was worried it would break any second now. After maybe a minute of silence aside from Kumon’s gasps for air, sometimes interrupted by a mewl, Azami finally saw the other’s head nod shakily. It made the tension in his shoulders loosen just a little. If he could hear him, it made it so much easier for both of them.

“Do you need me to call someone? Juza or Muku?” He couldn’t see Kumon’s face, but the way he desperately shook his head made him imagine the absolute panic in the golden eyes. “Okay, okay, I won’t.” He gave himself liberty to come a little closer. “Can I touch you?”

This pause was much longer, Kumon clearly hesitant. In the end, he nodded, hugging himself tighter, as if that alone could make him disappear. Azami moved to sit on his side, raising his hand to touch his shaking arm in a comforting gesture, but decided against it when he saw Kumon tense up. He instead moved closer so their sides would be touching, hoping it wouldn’t be too overwhelming. It wasn’t, as it seemed, because Kumon’s arm muscle relaxed just a little. Azami sat there quietly.

It wasn’t the first time he witnessed Kumon’s panic attack. Hardly. It’s become kind of a habit for Kumon to message him whenever he felt on edge so the two could try to somehow ease it and not let it develop, but it didn’t mean it always worked. Azami had seen the range Kumon’s panic attack could have: starting from short breath and inability to speak all the way to full-blown hysterics and unawareness of surroundings. When it first happened, Azami couldn’t help but be terrified, no matter how strong of a front he put on; he didn’t know what to do, Kumon wasn’t replying to him, he was scared anything he did would make things worse. But after experiencing it time and time again, he’d gotten used to dealing with it properly. He knew he needed to be strong for him at the moment, because Kumon was always there for him too when he needed it, even when he didn’t ask.

He raised his hand to touch the other’s slumped back. When he didn’t tense up, he started rubbing it in circles. “Can you talk?” he asked.

Kumon shook his head immediately.

“Okay,” he said. “Then just answer yes or no, okay?”

Nod.

“Is it just anxiety?”

Kumon hesitated, but nodded.

“So nothing happened? Other than anxiety I mean.”

Another nod.

“I see, I see.” Azami noted how his breathing was still unstable, so he moved back to kneel in front of him, what gained him a confused nervous sound from his friend. “It’s okay,” he cooed. “Can you give me your hand? Everything is okay,” he said softly. He noticed the reddened teary eyes peak at him, wide and unseeing, when Kumon looked up at him in his panicked haze. He hid his face again right away. He held out the hand that was crushing his phone, so Azami took it from him and put it on the ground, sighing in relief when he saw it was intact, no new cracks on the screen. He then grabbed his wrist and pressed Kumon’s hand flat to his chest. “Can you try breathing with me?”

Kumon’s fingers tightened on his shirt, what seemed to be involuntary because his breathing sped up right away.

“Hey, it’s okay, easy,” he said, focusing entirely on keeping his cool. “Let’s just breathe, okay? I’ll count for you.” He kept hold on Kumon’s shaking wrist, using his thumb to rub his skin. He noted how much Kumon was sweating. Then he noted how much _he_ was sweating as well. “Breathe in, Kumon.” He smiled when he saw him attempt to take a shaky breath. “Perfect. One, two, three, four. Now hold.” He was seemingly struggling as Azami counted to 7, air forcing itself out of his mouth by itself. “It’s okay,” he whispered. “Breathe out.” He counted to 8. “And again, breathe in.” Kumon’s grab on his shirt tightened even more at that. “It’s gonna be okay. Focus, we’re breathing now.”

They repeated the exercise, Kumon getting better at it each time, so Azami saw it as a win for now. Once his breathing was, although still heavy, steady, Azami paused.

“Are you feeling better?”

Kumon nodded.

“Can you talk yet?”

He watched him hesitate for a solid few minutes, until he heard his voice, quiet and fatigued. “Yeah.”

“It’s alright, don’t force yourself.”

“I’m not, I… I can talk.”

“... That’s great.” Azami smiled, and took his spot next to Kumon again. “Do you need anything? I can get you water or-”

“No,” he interrupted, his voice breaking. “Don’t go.”

“Okay, I’ll stay here. Easy.”

They both sat in silence like that for a solid 10 minutes, both waiting for Kumon’s breathing to go back to normal completely. Kumon finally looked up, his eyes still not meeting Azami’s though, instead focusing on the creases on his shirt. His face was pale and glistening with sweat. There were no more tears in his eyes, though they were still incredibly red and swollen.

“Sorry,” he mumbled. “For making you come here so suddenly.”

“It’s okay. I had either that, or staying in the room with Shitty Sakyo nagging at me. Easy choice,” he joked, glad to see Kumon’s dry lips curve up at the corners in a silent amusement.

“Still, sorry. And thank you.” His movements were heavier than what he was used to, but he got on his knees and leaned in to hug Azami, resting his head on his shoulder.

Azami tensed up, feeling his cheeks burning up, but he let him be, just for now. He raised his hand to his back, and rubbed it in circle motion.

“Hurts,” Kumon mumbled, hugging him a little harder. “My chest. And arms. And head.”

“Take it easy.” Azami noticed how hot Kumon’s face felt against him, and he easily deduced he must be running a fever. “Let’s get you some water?”

“I don’t want anyone to see me… like this,” he laughed under his breath, but cringed, immediately regretting his decision, grabbing at the front of his zipped up jacket, as if it would bring any comfort to his sore chest. Azami decided it's probably better to unzip it, or Kumon could get overwhelmed again. He tried not to think about it too much as his hand moved on his own, pulling the zipper down, which was kind of hard with Kumon still hugging him tightly. A thankful hum next to his ear ensured him that he made a right call.

“I can get it for you,” he said and tried to move away.

“Don’t leave-” His voice rose by an octave and his hold tensed, but Azami just smiled at him.

“I’ll be back in less than a minute. You need water, I’ll just get it from the kitchen and come right back.”

“... Promise?” Kumon asked. His voice sounded so fragile and quiet compared to the usual, and Azami hated himself immediately upon realizing he thought it’s cute.

“Yeah, sure,” he said dismissively.

“You have to promise!”

“Sure, sure, promise. I’ll be right back.”

Kumon moved away, worry evident on his face, and paired with exhaustion, it really hurt Azami’s heart. He never wanted to make Kumon feel like this. He never wanted to make him worry. He wanted to make him feel happy. Azami refused to believe those feelings, as strong as they were, weren’t just how friends felt about each other. All friends cared for each other after all. All friends looked out after each other. All friends regularly lost valuable hours of sleep because they kept thinking about each other-

“But, please, hurry,” Kumon said.

“Yeah, I will.”

He closed the door as he left and made his way to the kitchen. Before he could enter any place where he could meet any other dorm residents though, he took a second to take a deeper breath and slap himself on both his cheeks, trying his best to will the raging blush away. He cursed under his breath, realizing Kumon saw how red his face was and yet didn’t say anything about it, embarrassment settling in his stomach. Azami tried not to think too much about why this ‘embarrassment’ felt so warm.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!


End file.
